Fire Emblem: The Sword of Seals
by confoozled1
Summary: The continent of Elibe is threatened to be drowned in the blood of war once more. With the Lycian Alliance all but decimated, it is up to the son of Marquess Pherae to rally the continent in arms to fight the nation of Bern. FE6 Novelization. Ch 2 up.
1. The Battle of Castle Araphen

**Author's Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own Fire Emblem nor any of its characters. Also, if you have never played FE 6 before, this will be EXTREMELY spoiler heavy, as it runs along the lines of the actual game's plot itself. You were warned.  
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**Author's Instructions: There will be several ways on how to read this. The bold type font you see right now will indicate my thoughts/notes and other related material. If it is present within the story with an underline like this, it denotes the place.****  
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**_Italics (without the bold type face) will represent someone's thoughts within the story._**

_Italics with underlines will present a past event/action/thought/speech_

**See below for my Notes, usually designed as "A/N". Until then, enjoy! Oh and review please, not to sound greedy or needy but it helps me appreciate my work more.**

* * *

_The people of the continent of Elibe have been spreading technology and civilization for some time now, after the Dragons had been defeated in the Scouring._

_In the west resides the Kingdom of Etruria, which has the highest level of civilization in Elibe._

_The Kingdom of Bern, with a powerful military and a practical and pragmatic attitude about life, is located in the east._

_These are the two strongest nations in Elibe, and the lesser nations are located between them._

_There is the Lycia Alliance, which is under joint rule of various lords._

_The people of the Knights' Union of Ilia are hard at work cultivating the snowy wastelands in the north._

_In Sacae live various clans which ride through the plains on horseback._

_Although there were occasional clashes between nation-states, there was a general sense of balance of power and peace in Elibe, one which has lasted nearly a millennia._

_However, that balance was suddenly disrupted._

_King Zephiel, ruler of the Kingdom of Bern, has sent his forces out to conquer the rest of Elibe._

_In a frightening display of brute strength, Bern's forces invaded Sacae and Ilia and mercilessly massacred all those who stood against them._

_And now, Bern has turned its attention to invading one of the last bastion bastions of freedom of Elibe, the Lycia Alliance._

_And now, Bern has shown signs of invading the Lycia Alliance. Lord Hector, the Marquess of Ostia, the Supreme General of the Lycian Army is making one final desperate stand against the forces of Bern at the stronghold, Castle Araphen.

* * *

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**Castle Araphen**

Dust fluttered down from the ceiling giving way to an invisible veil as the armor clad general stared dismally into what had once been a peaceful countryside. It was as though an artist had disliked the tranquility of vibrant green and cheerful blue, and instead smeared an intense combination of red, black and grey.

He hardly gave notice to his officers, who were scurrying about busily in and out of the room, barking orders to the soldiers. He was helplessly trapped in the room, unable to join his fellow soldiers in defending against the enemy. It was the blessing, and curse of being a general.

"Lord Hector, please stay away from the window!" a passing man exclaimed from behind him. "What if an arrow hits you?"

He seemed not to care, remaining steadfast by the window. The attendant stared helplessly at the despondent general, unsure of whether to attempt to dissuade the general from his present course of action.

"Lord Hector! The southern gate has fallen… they've breached the courtyard!" a panicked yell echoed throughout the hall, momentarily freezing all the inhabitants within the area. Yet, there was no silence as the cries of battle swept through the hall, supported by the ringing of swords and spears and the hollow whistles of arrows.

Hector knew. He had seen it from the window; the desperate attempts of the archers who could not restring their bows fast enough fall prey to the spears of the wyvern mounted soldiers and the jaws of their steeds. He had seen the spears plunge through armor, erupting from the other side in a gruesome and organized fashion. The familiar blue and white armor of the Alliance was giving way to the overwhelming presence of black and red of Bern.

"…What of the reinforcements from Laus and Pherae?" he asked gravely, turning from the window, almost solemnly. "How much longer before they arrive to Araphen?"

Despite the hopeful question, none of the hope was present in the general's beleaguered mind. Laus was detached from the rest of the Alliance; knowing his former classmate, no help would come at all. He could not ask for help from Pherae; it's Marquess was ill and he could not ask for the Marquess' son to assist. The lad was a mere fifteen years of age, an age where he should be studying and playing, not leading armies to their death.

The officers looked at each other uneasily, drawing lots almost telepathically on who the bearer of ill news would be. After a brief moment of choosing, the middle man stepped forward timidly before the famed general, looking microscopic in comparison.

"Laus has… not sent any reinforcements at all," he remarked hesitantly. "It is possible to suspect that either Bern has forces fighting them there or they have betrayed us."

"I see…" Hector's face flushed with fury but he did not act, filling his officers with a sense of relief and apprehension at the same time. Instead, he walked over to a nearby seat, sitting down with his face in his hands.

"My Lord?" the same man asked, with concern seeped into his voice, "are you alright?"

It was a stupid question; any dunce with a brain would able to see that the general was frustrated. It was not the first time that Laus had abandoned Lycia, but Hector was not surprised. He knew what kind of man Marquess Erik was; after all, they had studied together many a decade ago.

But this was a situation which could not be overlooked. This was a situation in which Lycia needed every single man it could muster. There had been fourteen houses within Lycia. Two, Cornwell and Caelin had been dissolved and added to Ostia's ranks. Khatelet had been the first fall in Bern's invasion. Santaruz, Worde, Ryerde, Tania and Thria had fallen shortly afterward. Badon was a trade center, not a military state. Only Ostia, Pherae, Laus, Tuscana and Araphen were left to defend against the merciless onslaught.

"My Lord… Pherae, however, has sent reinforcements," the man ventured, snapping Hector from his thoughts. He looked up in surprise, unsure of what he had heard.

"Reinforcements…?" he began to ask, beginning to fill with hope, but his eyes hardened almost immediately. "Who's leading the Pheraens? Eliwood?"

The answer would send a bolt through Hector's torso. "No, my lord. The Pheraens are led by Marquess Pherae's son, Roy."

Hector's eyes widened in shock as he froze in an attempt to process the words that his lieutenant had spoken.

_Is Eliwood in his right mind?_ Hector thought furiously as he regained the usage of his limbs, prompting him to stride thunderously over to a nearby table, where he grasped the handle of a large broadaxe.

Everyone watched in awe and terror as the general lifted the axe easily with one hand before raising it above his head and bringing it down upon the floor in a bout of anger. The table stood no chance as it exploded into a shower of splinters which sprayed about the room, clattering upon the stone floor.

"Tell the soldiers to fall back to the second level," Hector commanded, shouldering his axe. He seemed to have regained his composure and his level of calmness; the lieutenants had not been used to him sulking around for most of the battle. "I will go down and assist the men myself in battle," he announced resolutely, once again, surprising the men.

"My Lord, you couldn't possibly hope to join them in battle!" another man squeaked, earning a cold stare from Hector. "Y…you'll die!"

"I don't care," Hector replied, walking past the lieutenants. "You can all flee if you wish; I will not hold that against you." He stopped before the doors, turning about once more to face them. "But remember this: power unused is power wasted."

Hector began walking again, leaving the officers in the room aghast at their leader's decision. He did not care; those doddering fools did not serve much use anyway. They were far more concerned for their own pathetic hides than what had actually mattered.

* * *

The empty void within the stairs felt twisted and cold as the general descended the stairs, his cloak dancing about his clanking armor. Somehow, the words he had uttered before he had left the room felt vaguely familiar.

"Kent?" Hector sounded surprised as he approached the base of the staircase, seeing his former comrade leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. His sword lay upon the floor pitifully, broken into several shards, stained with blood. Hector's eyes scanned the knight's body, coming to rest at his arm, which had an unwanted guest embedded in it; the shaft of an arrow.

"Ah… Marquess Ostia," Kent breathed heavily, grasping the shaft with gritty determination before pulling it out with a painful wince. The arrow came out with a disgusting slurp, but not before a slight shower of blood decorated the floor messily. "What a shameful state you're seeing me in right now…"

"Rest easy," Hector advised, as Kent weakly attempted to stand. Kent looked at the general in surprise for a moment before slumping upon the floor, breath still ragged. Hector squatted as much as his armor would allow him, but he still towered over the knight.

"The western gate… it's fallen as well…" Kent muttered weakly, as Hector placed his axe down upon the floor before reaching into a pouch. "They've brought two of their Dragon Generals… nearly all of us were massacred…"

Hector was halfway through administering the proper treatment when he looked at Kent in fear. He had not anticipated that Bern would bring along two of their three mightiest warriors… the situation had become even graver than he had originally foreseen.

"It really is a shame that our entire company could not be here, isn't it?" Kent asked, his words muffled as he used his free hand and mouth to bind the bandage over the wound. "I could only imagine how the battle would have turned out if Lady Lyndis, Lord Eliwood and everyone else were here…"

"Especially your friend, Sain?" Hector replied with a slight chuckle; this was the best he could do to lighten the already dire situation.

"Especially Sain," Kent replied with a smile, before he attempted to stand up once again, this time with greater success than before. He clutched Hector's broad shoulder for support. "Unfortunately, he's still the same womanizer that we all remember."

"Kent, there's something I want you to do," Hector told him, pushing away the briefly humorous atmosphere. His words elicited a curious look from his subordinate. The general picked his axe up once again, carefully this time, so not as to injure his comrade in the cramped space. "Don't return to battle."

"What? Why, my lord?" Kent exclaimed, before wincing once more; the bandage had begun to color itself a pale red.

"You're in no condition," Hector responded, with a tone that told Kent that it was a direct order as a superior. "I want you to escape from here. Evacuate Marquess Tuscana and as many injured soldiers as you can through the secret exits."

Kent opened his mouth to protest once more, but Hector cut him off once more. 'Furthermore, tell the incoming Pherae army to retreat and take a better position. Enlist the aid of Etruria. The battle here is lost if there really are two Dragon Generals."

"What about yourself, my lord?" Kent asked nervously, although he knew the response the bearded general would give.

"It had been predicted a while back that I would die upon the battlefield," Hector replied solemnly. "And I look to fulfill that prediction today. Hopefully this will buy our Alliance the time it needs to recuperate."

"Prediction...? But my lord… what about your daughter?" Kent attempted to protest one last time, and it looked as though it had a profound effect upon the hardened general, as the bearded face had paled and it was hanging crestfallen parallel to the floor.

"This is exactly why I'm fighting. For her sake," Hector replied. "I have no other choice in the matter. I don't think I could ever apologize to her mother if I allowed anything to happen to her."

There was a silence as Kent regretted his words. There was no convincing the general otherwise. He was the same headstrong fool he was two decades ago.

"As you wish, my lord," Kent bowed wobbily; he was still fatigued from the battle. Hector raised his head in surprise, but it turned into a smile.

"Please don't die out there," Kent said respectfully.

Hector laughed in response; a genuine laugh which he had not done in quite some time. "Don't worry. I'm too afraid of my wife to join her in the afterlife just yet… but take care of yourself."

"Yes, my lord," Kent saluted, before turning around and walking up the stairs in an almost amusing manner.

"Kent!"

"Yes, my lord?" The knight turned around after several steps.

"When you do meet Eliwood, beat some sense into him for me."

The knight smiled. "I doubt I have your monstrous strength but I shall try to administer the most severe beating ever."

Hector watched with renewed spirit as he watched his subordinate ascent the stairs before vanishing around the corner. He knew it would be the last time; he knew that Kent had wanted to fight alongside him but he could not allow that. It wasn't just for Lillina; it was for the future of Lycia… the future of Elibe itself.

He gripped the handle of his weapon with tremendous power; it was a miracle that the weapon could withstand it.

"Now, Durbans… let's see how accurate your prediction was," Hector remarked, smiling darkly to himself as he broke into a heavy run to join the battle outside. Hopefully, he would be able to rally the troops together for one last, glorious stand.

* * *

**One mile from Castle Araphen**

"Come children! You must leave quickly!" An elderly man whispered nervously, glancing over his shoulder at the blackened sky; the dots flying around had almost blotted the sun out completely. He nudged several children forward at the same time; they appeared to be completely terrified and dazed; many of them had been awakened by the sound of the battle.

Two boys emerged from the building from which the other children had fled from; they appeared older and more composed than their friends.

"Lugh! Chad! Help these children onto the carriage!" His voice rose in volume although it did not lose its apprehensive tone.

"Reverend!" a voice called out from inside the building. The elderly man and the two boys turned to the source of the voice; a somewhat middle aged man emerged from the door.

If the entire place was a grotesque abstract painting, the man was the lone shining depiction of beauty, as his long golden hair seemed to flutter lightly about and his sapphire eyes glittered, complemented by the color of his robe.

"Father Lucius!" the Reverend exclaimed in surprise. "You should get onto the carriage as well!"

Lucius shook his head and smiled. "No, I cannot do that. I'm still waiting on a friend."

His response surprised everyone except the children, who were still not old enough to fully grasp the situation at hand.

"That… that mercenary friend?" the reverend sputtered incredulously. "I mean no disrespect Father, but we have not heard from him in weeks! Now is not the time to wait like a faithful housewife!"

"Forgive me, but this is what I have decided upon," Lucius replied calmly and serenely, his eyes reflecting his will. He looked at the two boys. "Lugh… Chad… help the Reverend take care of the children, alright?"

The boys, seemingly more composed than the reverend, nodded. They knew how important the friend was to the Father. They began to take the remaining children and lead them to the carriage which was waiting just outside the garden.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider?" the reverend asked. "They will kill you on sight even if you are a member of St. Elimine."

"I am prepared," he replied softly. But before that, you know where the village is, right? If you don't, Lugh and Chad will show you the way."

The reverend stood there, defeated. He knew that he could not persuade the man; that was how deep the friendship between him and the mercenary ran.

"Father! Reverend!" a shout came; both men looked at the gate as Lugh burst in, with Chad following behind. They both looked frightened.

"They're coming…" Lugh wheezed, as he bent over slightly, with his hands on his knees. "Chad saw them… a group of soldiers headed our way…"

Lucius' beauty seemed to be sapped instantly as his face turned ashen. He looked in the direction in which Lugh had indicated then back at the boys and the reverend.

"Go, now!" he urged, waving with his hand in desperation. The reverend and Chad needed no second order; they began hurrying down the path and out the gate again. Lugh however, stood there, his face revealing sadness as he realized what was to happen.

"Father… please come with us…" Lugh implored. "What can you do?"

Lucius smiled gently and descended down the stairs, patting the boy's mousy hair. "St. Elimine has blessed me enough to protect you all one last time. And may St. Elimine bless you with the book you borrowed from my room."

Lugh appeared stunned. "You… you knew all along?"

Lucius laughed slightly. "Yes, it's a bad habit that you picked up from Chad. But I know you'll put it to good use." His eyes betrayed some sadness at the thought he would probably never get to see the children's smiling faces ever again, but he couldn't falter now. "Now… go!"

At first, the feeling in Lugh's legs was non-existent. But he dared not disobey the man who was his surrogate father at first but had become like a real father in the end. He took one last glance at the Father's smiling face before turning and sprinting from the garden with tears in his eyes.

Lucius watched the boy disappear from sight before he turned around and went back into the building. The children were a delight to look after, but all meetings in life had to part ways eventually.

"Lugh really is like his mother," he murmured before sitting in a chair. "I hope you'll look after your son down from Heaven…"

* * *

**Castle Araphen Western Gate**

"Lycian soldiers sure don't put much of a fight, do they, Brunya?" a man with a bored look upon his face asked, as his partner walked slightly behind in silence. The two looked about the silent courtyard, which was littered with bodies. It was truly a horrible sight to see, but the man appeared to take delight in the scenery.

"Narshen, we're here to obey the orders of King Zephiel, not delight in butchery," Brunya admonished sternly. She looked around pityingly at the bodies, sighing inwardly at the sight of the carnage. It was an unnecessary massacre, but King Zephiel always had a reason for his actions. She trusted his decision; it was not her place to question it.

"You're boring, Brunya," Narshen whined, throwing a glance at the woman's slender figure with a hungry gleam in his eye. Unfortunately, she had seen it.

"Narshen…" she warned, holding up a tiny, yet raging inferno compressed into the shape of a ball, "do not test me. Regardless of who you are, I _will_ slay you on the spot if you dare do that again."

"Fine, fine. I understand," Narshen apologized sarcastically, tugging on a rope he was holding. The rope pulled taut as the other end was attached to a muzzle placed over a black reptile with eyes the color of the blood around them.

"What the…" Narshen wondered aloud; he was jerked back slightly as the rope had not budged. He turned around to look. Brunya turned as well, and the two of them saw the reptile claw at a body which had been ripped in half from the brute strength issued from the wyvern's claws. Organs were bursting out messily as the wyvern's snout roughed up the body in a vain attempt to consume the dead person.

"Stupid creature… let's go!" Narshen snapped, pulling on the rope even harder than before. It refused to budge however, and continued to tear at the body, which was now no more than ribbons of red and pink flesh.

"Amusing… a Wyvern Knight who cannot control his steed," another called out from a distance, but from within the castle. The two people looked at one another before looking out into the shadows in an attempt to identify the newcomer.

The newcomer was bloodied and his armor was dented, but it did not conceal the amount of strength which emanated from him. He smiled almost evilly as he unshouldered his axe, which was almost as large as him and held it in front of him firmly. The two instantly knew who he was. The enemy leader. Marquess Hector of Ostia.

"Oh…?" Narshen responded with sneer. "So the enemy's commander has finally decided to rear his head." He dropped the rope to his steed and grabbed the handle of his sword, drawing it from its slumber from its sheath. "Are you sure that it's wise for you to approach two of Bern's Dragon Generals by yourself?"

Hector laughed, irritating the narcissistic man. "I did not come alone, you sorry child." Almost as if on cue, at least two scores of men appeared behind Hector, armed in various fashion, causing Narshen to tremble slightly. "The western gate was retaken, and reinforcements are on their way."

"You… you lie!" Narshen spat, his sword hand betraying him and trembling incessantly. "How could that tiny force overtake Bern's finest?"

"Get a grip on yourself, Narshen!" Brunya snapped, eyeing her opponents warily. "This is exactly why King Zephiel wanted Gale in your position!"

"Don't… mention him!" Narshen spat maliciously, brandishing his sword in her direction, then at Hector, who appeared unfazed. "I'll take care of him myself and prove to you all… that I'm the greatest!"

"Oh? I'd learn to control my wyvern mount first before yelling things like that," Hector shot back coolly.

"Oh, your tongue's sharp," Narshen remarked about as evenly, "but I wonder… all that fighting and all the years would probably have dulled your blade… still… I wonder… if we fought, who would be victorious… the famed General of the Lycian Alliance or one of Bern's Dragon Generals?"

"I'm not here to play games with you," Hector responded with a steely voice. He looked slightly behind him and waved his arm forward. "All archers, fire!"

Brunya had seen it coming and was able to avoid it deftly, but Narshen was so caught up in his pride that it was a miracle that the arrows caressed his arm gently, leaving naught but a scratch here and there. The wyvern however, in its quest for a meal, was not so lucky; several shafts stuck within its neck and torso, causing the beast to flail about wildly before it crashed into a nearby fountain and laid still with some human flesh still in its claw.

"Useless beast," Narshen grumbled, looking over at the carcass of his steed before looking at the general once more.

"It seems… that we'll have some fun after all," he remarked almost cheerfully, as he licked slowly and leisurely. He began lunging at the general, with sword drawn, "Don't you dare die on me before I've had my fun!"

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**A/N: I started this fic about... two or three years ago. That was a really long time. I uploaded the first chapter onto this site but never got around to working on it because I replaced my computer around the time I was about to publish my second chapter.**

**Now, I decided to type again because I played through FE 6 and 7 recently and there's a lot more that I understand about the plot in relation to when I first started it. I deleted the first chapter (which was similar in structure to this one) because there were a lot of inconsistencies such as the fate of those in 7. I also need a break from my other writing projects and this one I already know how to do from beginning to end.**

**In terms of plot, this will follow the game itself. I read the manga, Hasha no Tsurugi, which I didn't hold in very high regard so I'm not going to include any characters from there. However, as an author, I do have some creative liberties so I will introduce FE 7 characters who you won't normally see in FE 6. Some as cameos, some as major roles. In addition, certain elements of the game will not be featured, such as stat boosting items such as skill books and energy rings and class promotion items, such as the Elysian Whip or the Magic Ring. The characters, if their titles are used, will be their promoted titles, such as General (well, general is more of a high position, so I'll refer to him as a Knight) or Paladin. Some exceptions to that are Swordmasters and Heroes; I'll be calling them myrmidons and mercenaries because it flows somewhat better in my opinion. Of course, you're free to disagree, but let me know so I can change it as the audience wants it.  
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**Characters: Now, some of you will notice the immediate usage of seven characters. Hector, Kent and Lucius, and four mentioned by the former three: Eliwood, Lyn(dis), Sain and the mother of Lugh (which I won't reveal yet to some new people). One is implied to be a character from FE 7 (mentioned by Lucius). We're running on their endings in FE 7, where Kent becomes the steward of Caelin which was summarily taken in by Ostia after Lyn relinquishes rule over it. Sain retires from service and god knows what he's doing (probably trying pimp some girls or whatnot) and Lugh's mother has obviously bit the dust. Lucius has been said to set up an orphanage.  
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**Now, in terms of names, I will be using official translations, as opposed to how I originally wrote it. For example, Nacien is the official translation. Narshen was what I originally called him, due to the fan translation.  
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**Chapter: In terms of the plot, this was a freewrite. The only confirmed information is that Hector did decide to make his last stand at Araphen along with several other Lycian dukes (I eliminated a large number of the Houses right off the bat because I wanted to focus mostly on Hector's turmoil) and that Brunya and Nacien, along with King Zephiel attacked the Castle. Also, it is implied that Lucius has built an orphanage in Araphen, but once again, this is pure speculation.**

**And I'll stop here because I'm rambling on.**

**Oh, and one more thing. Pairings are very important because they helped me a lot during the game (support convos for the win). If you guys have a particular pairing you want to be featured, tell me. I don't have a particular favorite pairing so it's open game at this point.**

**Cheers.  
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	2. The Bandits of Bolm Mountain

**Author's Disclaimer/Warning: This fic is spoiler heavy in plot to Fire Emblem 6: The Sword of Seals. Read at your own discretion!**

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**Castle Pherae**

"How long has it been since you've last visited, Lillina?" Eliwood's voice was gently escorted through the air by the gentle breeze, as it blended into the vibrant garden. He watched, amused , leaning upon a small walking cane as the young girl frolicked about, soaking in the view as well as the rays of the morning sun. "Was it two years?"

Lillina stopped almost abruptly, almost bumping into a maid who let out a small shriek as she fumbled to recover her load, a small tray of expensive china, to no avail. The middle aged lord smiled in amusement as his daughter's friend looked mortified and the maid, on impulse, dropped to her knees to pick up the shards.

"I'm so sorry…" she mumbled embarrassedly, stooping down to the maid's level to assist in picking up the shattered glass. She stopped for a moment, looking thoughtfully at a small sliver she had recovered deftly before turning to the victimized maid. "Are you alright?"

"No… I apologize, my lady. It was my fau-" the maid began to respond meekly but she was cut off by a haughty and impatient voice.

"Lady Ostia! You should really be mindful of your surroundings!" a portly, balding man with a bristling mustache exclaimed, bouncing down from the stairs that led from the castle. He stared at the devastation caused by the young girl before shaking his head in disappointment.

'You are a lady, and the daughter of the Supreme General of the Lycian Alliance," he continued to admonish her, oblivious to the fact that behind him, Eliwood rolled his eyes in disdain and winked at Lillina, who raised her free hand to her mouth, in an attempt to disguise the laugh which desired to escape from her.

"I think that's enough, Merlinus… it was only a simple mistake," Eliwood spoke up, stepping forward. He placed a hand upon Merlinus' shoulder, which seemed to have a profound effect upon the uptight merchant; he became placid almost immediately. "Now, I believe you had a few things to report to me?"

Merlinus bowed nervously, as Lillina began to assist in cleaning the large shards once more, dropping them onto the tray with delicate clinks.

"Forgive me, my lord," he began in a more serious fashion, steadying his rather large figure momentarily before placing his focus upon the report once more. "An advance messenger reported that the young Master is only a few hours away from arriving to the castle."

"Hm… that is better than I expected," Eliwood mused, sounding pleased with the words that Merlinus had spoken. He turned to Lillina, who appeared to be done in her assistance. "I'm sure you're just as excited to meet Roy, am I right?"

Lillina, who had backed away from the mess, turned bright red at the mention of the Marquess' only son. She was relieved that a second maid had rushed in, with a broom at hand to sweep away the remaining tiny shards, obscuring the Marquess' view of her flustered face.

"Yes… yes, I suppose so," she replied meekly, looking away slightly.

"Oh come now, don't tell me you're just as shy as when Roy and I first met you," Eliwood teased slightly, but coughed in between the words, causing a slight struggle to recompose himself.

"I'm… I'm not!" Lillina exclaimed half-defensively, surprising herself as the maid left after finishing her job rather swiftly. "I'm just… worried he's changed since it's been so long… but are you feeling alright, Mr. Eliwood?"

"I'm fine…" Eliwood grimaced slightly, leaning forward upon the cane for support. He attempted a smile, which came out slightly twisted. "I just feel slightly feverish from time to time."

Lillina did not buy the response as readily, as evidenced by her frown. It immediately reminded the Pharaen Marquess of her father's usual angry and stubborn facial expression… no; it _was_ his usual expression.

"Don't worry so much about it," Eliwood remarked casually, "I haven't gotten any worse, now did I? I'll survive."

"My Lord, there are more things to report," Merlinus interjected once more, clearing his throat in the process. Eliwood turned his neck at an acute angle to face Merlinus, but not without an apologetic look for ignoring his retainer.

"Ah, I'm sorry Merlinus; I did not mean to leave you there waiting," the red-haired Marquess apologized. "Please, go on."

The portly merchant looked at Eliwood with some concern that such a powerful lord would easily be distracted by trivial matters, but immediately put whatever thought he had in his mind to rest as he reached into his robe and extracted a few sheets of paper.

"Our intelligence report indicates that Bern forces have retaken positions near the border of Khathelet," Merlinus spoke gravely, his face rigid with displeasure, handing his lord the documents he had procured.

Almost instantly, Lillina felt the sunny and cheery atmosphere of the garden wilt away as though the cold autumn's winds had arrived. She was not uneducated; she knew what that meant for her father, who was in a territory surrounded on three sides by Bern. Araphen was below Sacae, directly west of Bern and north of Kathelet. It would even be safe to conclude that Araphen was almost completely divided, as Bern had utilized an extremely devastating strategy in dividing the Lycian Alliance in half geographically.

In fact, it was an accomplishment in itself how Marquess Ostia had managed to relocate to Araphen with a small portion of his military across miles of enemy occupied territory without being found.

She knew that this was not the worst news, yet she could not help but feel the apprehension slithering into the back of her head as her father's old friend appeared weary as he put on a long and hard face at the papers as he read them.

"That's too close to Araphen…" he muttered almost hoarsely, hinting at another coughing fit; the young girl could see the veins in his hands pulsating quite noticeably, giving the impression that Eliwood was not as healthy as his claims had suggested.

"Will my father be alright?" the young girl asked uncertainly. Both men looked at her before looking at each other with discomfort; neither knew for sure how to respond exactly, especially given the ferocious nature in which the nation of Bern was conducting its military campaign. Hector was one of the strongest men in the Alliance, but one man could only do so much in the face of such overwhelming numbers.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," Eliwood attempted to speak with some confidence, but there was some doubt lingering in his eyes. It had appeared that he would need more reassuring than Lillina, but a small smile had assembled once more upon his lips. "No, I'm confident that he'll be fine. It'd take more than several of Bern's wyvern knight squads to take down an Ostian general."

"Thanks, Mr. Eliwood," Lillina responded, smiling. "But I'm old enough to handle bad news as well. I'm Marquess Ostia's daughter, after all." She had apparently not bought into his small lie, but she appeared more confident than five minutes prior.

"That is true," Eliwood chuckled, admiring the girl's spirit. She reminded him more and more of the Ostian marquess with each passing second. Hector had always wanted a son to pit against his son for the fun and bragging rights, but Lillina had shown all the spirit, confidence and vigor that a young boy at the same age would. She would become a fine marquesa one day…

"Lord Eliwood, the final report…" Merlinus hesitatingly ventured forward. Eliwood turned to him once more.

"Oh, I apologize again, Merlinus," he said, coughing twice in the process, "what is the final report?"

Merlinus looked nervous, but opened his mouth to speak. "There has been increased activity involving bandits-"

"Bandits?" Eliwood asked sharply, but he was soon interrupted by a faint scream which echoed out of the doors of the castle. All three people whirled about in the direction of the door, curious at what exactly was the source of the noise.

"Lord Eliwood!"

The flustered yell had evidently been issued from a figure that burst from the doors in a rather speedy and athletic fashion. She appeared by be a middle aged woman, clad in hunter's clothes and a bandana, but the highlighting features were her ponytails, which did not look appealing upon a woman at her age.

Lillina recognized her instantly; she was the woman who took care of her and Roy back when they played together… Rebecca was her name?

Eliwood watched calmly as the woman ran down the stairs and along the path until she came to a stop in between the merchant and him. She was sweating slightly and her cheeks were even more flushed than Lillina had remembered her normally.

"…Rebecca. What is the matter?"

The woman looked up at Eliwood, gasping slightly for breath. It appeared she had run an extremely long way as the sunlight reflected off her brow, causing the sweat upon it to glisten vibrantly.

"Bandits, milord… we… we saw them coming down from the Bolm Mountains while hunting… it appears that they'll attack the villages…" Despite her lack of breath, the woman had somehow managed to utter every single word in one breath.

There was a stunned silence. Lillina looked at each of the faces of the adults before her. Merlinus looked appalled, despite the fact that he was the one who was in the middle of administering the news; Rebecca appeared to still be winded, but apprehensive at the same time at the response of her lord.

However, Eliwood's face had turned the darkest it had ever been the entire afternoon; it would be safe to say that this was the first time that Lillina had ever seen him so furious and terrifying, which made her wonder just how terrifying her father would be if he were livid.

"What of your husband and the villagers?" he asked in a shockingly calm fashion, clutching at his cane with both hands now, looking even older and paler than he normally did.

"I… I don't know," she breathed slightly easier now, but she appeared anguished. "He told me to come straight here… he'd go and warn them…"

There was an awkward silence as everyone in the vicinity watched the woman begin to sniffle and sob, until a sharp rap broke the silence. It was Eliwood, who had used his cane to tap the stone pavement sharply. If he looked furious before, it was nothing compared to now, as every person there could see the maelstrom that was brewing in his eyes.

"If I weren't in this state, I'd teach them a lesson…" he grunted slightly before he began coughing violently. One hand clutched at his robes as he doubled over, causing Merlinus and Rebecca to start forward to support their lord.

He raised the hand that was clutching at his robes to stop them from approaching any closer.

"No, I'm fine," he said, his voice strained, "we have to deal with the bandits first… Rebecca, notify the castle guards. Tell them to get ready for battle immediately."

Rebecca nodded; despite the tears forming in her eyes, she sprinted away lithely, giving Lillina the impression that the woman was not just a helpless nurse but someone with the courage and intuition of a warrior.

"Merlinus," Eliwood's voice sounded stronger, causing the merchant to stiffen, "I want you to send a messenger informing Roy of this immediately!"

"Y-yes sir!" Like Rebecca before him, Merlinus began running back in the direction of the castle, although it was with far less grace. It would have been humorous if it weren't for the idea of an impending bandit raid.

"Mr. Eliwood… what should I do?" Lillina asked, stepping forward. Eliwood looked at her in surprise.

"What are you talking about Lillina? You must hide somewhere… there's a possibility that this castle might end up a battlefield."

"No sir, I can fight as well," Lillina objected assertively; her face was grim, but she did not show any indication of fear. She pulled out a book with a leather cover. "Lady Cecelia taught me some magic while I studied …"

"Absolutely not," Eliwood denied sternly, giving her a slightly cold look which made Lil;ina recoil slightly; he had never used that type of look on her before. "If something had happened to you, I wouldn't know what to say to Hector."

Lillina's appeared crestfallen. Her arm dropped to her side, barely hanging onto the book that she had procured.

"To my father…? But…"

Eliwood's face relaxed; his jaw no longer appeared as intimidating as the muscles moved back into their proper position.

"It's going to be all right, I promise you. Roy should be almost here by now, so we just need to hold out for a little bit. If we can do that, then we can drive off these bandits."

* * *

**Pherae Countryside**

"I'm telling you, she's my teacher and several years older than me!" a young boy whined, with a frustrated look on his face. He was walking backward, which he did awkwardly as he took pains not to trip over the various obstacles which lay littered upon the grassy road.

His complaints fell on deaf ears, as his companions laughed at his protest.

"Sure, sure, whatever you say Lord Roy," the youngest of his companions responded nonchalantly, with a rather large grin covering his face. Roy threw a dirty look at him. "But I must admit, you do have rather good taste in women. To think… you'd have a fancy for Etruria's Mage General…"

"I'm telling you, I don't!" Roy protested once more, but his complaint only served to fuel their entertainment even further. "Wolt, you really are the worst. You're supposed to be my best friend, not my worst tormentor!"

The same companion laughed, brushing his light brownish-green hair out of his eyes.

"I heard that the Knight General of Etruria also interested in her," a young man next to Wolt piped in, his voice just as teasing as Wolt. Roy groaned, cuing a wide grin from the two as they looked at each other in their successful breach of Roy's mind.

"If you're both talking about Etruria's current events, then answer me this," a stern voice interrupted the youths' moment of merriment. They looked back to see the cold face of Marcus, the oldest figure in the group.

"A quiz…?" Wolt asked, his spirits dampening almost instantaneously. "Come on, why do we have to answer?" He pointed an accusing finger at Roy. "Roy's the one who was away studying."

The white haired paladin glared at Wolt, quelling the lad's protest effectively. "The question is directed at any of you. What happened recently in Etruria?"

There was a silence as the faces of the three young men turned blank; they looked at each other quizzically before back at Marcus, shrugging their shoulders in near perfect synchronization.

Marcus sighed in disappointment. "Honestly, what are you lads paying attention to these days…?"

He cast a scathing look at Roy, who flinched at the sight of the senior knight's intimidating figure. "Especially you , Roy. You were under the tutelage of one of Etruria's three Generals! Were you so distracted by General Cecilia that you allowed all information to leak from your head?"

Marcus smiled teasingly as the other members finally saw through his real meaning and began roaring with laughter. Roy, however, was none too pleased at the fact that even the oldest and supposedly most mature member was also taking a jab at him.

"Not you too, Marcus…" Roy was on the verge of giving up entirely as he turned about completely so as to properly climb a small ridge. He managed to climb up rather agilely in comparison to the others before he stopped suddenly.

"See something?" Wolt asked eagerly, joining Roy up on the top of the ridge.

Roy said nothing; instead, he pointed ahead. Wolt looked in the direction of the finger, before he too stood there, unbelieving of what he was seeing.

* * *

**Village**

"Where the hell did all the villagers disappear to?"

A fierce looking beast of a man surveyed the landscape keenly. There was nothing. Only buildings and dirt pavements, but no indications that this had once been a settlement in which people lived in.

"It takes a lot of work off our hands, y'know?" his companion spoke, another ragged looking individual, but he looked more like a rodent than an actual beast in comparison to his companion. "All this killin' and stuff… it's a lot o' work… Boss said we should just take what we can and join him at the castle…"

"Aye, but that's cause yer a coward," the first man shot back, kicking a door in front of him. He froze in place momentarily as he watched the door make contact with the ground with a momentous crash, apparently pleased at his own strength before walking in. The other man followed suit.

'Tch… this place is empty also!" he growled angrily, swinging his weapon in madness. The large blade narrowly missed the neck of his companion as it flew in an ungainly arc, smashing into a chair and the leg of a table before coming to a rest at his side.

"Bazba, wait fer a minute…" his companion began to speak, but he was forced to jump back as Bazba brandished his axe once more in an uncontrollable rage.

"NO! I want to smash someone's head in, right now!" Bazba's eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head; he had been consumed by bloodlust, sending a warning to his companion that if he didn't do something, he would be the victim instead.

"Shut yer hole for a sec, would ya?" the rodent-like bandit exclaimed, holding a finger to his lips. For a moment, he was afraid that the bloodlust had consumed Bazba fully, but he had little to worry about, as Bazba lowered his weapon and looked at him intently.

And Bazba could hear it. It had not been apparent to him during his fury, but he heard it now, despite how faint it was. The noise seemed to come from directly above them, a whimper or sorts, probably from a child, but it did not matter to him. He was satisfied with any victim. His axe would not leave the village hungry.

The two made their way to the stairs, which were a few feet away to begin with. As they set their feet upon the old wood, it seemed to groan under their combined weights. It didn't matter, as they both knew that even with all the noise, whoever was whimpering upstairs had no place to run to.

The creaking and groaning continued all the way until they reached a room at the end of the hall; the house was fairly dilapidated to be causing all that noise, but Bazba appreciated it. It served as an announcement to the person inside that a cruel, painful death was approaching it steadily.

The blood inside him was pulsating with an excitable frenzy as he placed a dirty hand upon the doorknob and turned forcefully. The door swung open, but not without suffering; Bazba had turned the knob with such vigor that it broke off.

The two bandits strode into the room. It seemed empty as they scanned it with their beady eyes, but again, the whimpering started up once more. It would have sounded pathetic to any person with remorse, but the bandits just grinned at one another as they approached a small bed.

"Found you…" Bazba snarled gleefully, as he stuck his hand into the dark recess underneath the bed. He felt something soft, something alive as his fingers clamped down upon their prey. And in one swift motion, he brought his arm back out hanging onto the prize.

The prize was a small figure curled up into a ball; she had dirty blonde hair and her eyes were thick and glossy with fright. Her face was scrounged up in a rather pitiful fashion as they stared into the hellish pit of her captor's eyes.

"You're an adorable one, aren't ya?" Bazba teased, as he brought the small bundle in for closer inspection. She tried to wriggle out of the clothes which restrained her, but a simple readjustment in his grip caught her by her hair as well. She winced in pain as she continued to struggle ineffectively.

'It's just too bad… but my axe has been hungerin' for a mighty long time now, you hear, lass?" Bazba held the crude weapon up for her to see, eliciting the tears to begin to flow from the girl's eyes as heart-wrenching cries come from her tiny frame.

* * *

There was a soft whistle and a thud beside Bazba; he turned to see his companion reach out toward him weakly, teetering almost in an intoxicated fashion before he fell onto the bed, bleeding his life away. There was a feathered shaft stuck in the area of his lungs and heart.

Bazba barely had time to react as a second projectile streaked through the air and implant itself into him. There was a surge of pain as he felt the arrowhead dig itself into his ribs ravenously; the feeling continued to ricochet throughout his torso. He dropped the child, who despite her fear found enough sense to crawl away before breaking into a run in the direction of her savior.

"Shit… what the hell?!" Bazba roared, grasping the shaft with one hand. He pulled viciously; the arrowhead came out with a sickening slurping noise, allowing the blood to pour freely from his body in a steady, dark stream.

Tossing the projectile away, he stared out the door and into the shadows of the hallway. There was a lone figure there, holding an enormous bow steadily in front of him, with an arrow poised to launch.

Sheer reflexes were the only thing that saved him as he knew that the archer would not give him a moment to recover; such was the cruelty of ranged warriors, as he dove out of the way. A splintering crash told him that the arrow had flown past where his forehead had once been. Instead, it had continued to seek out a new target and smashed a window completely as it continued to fly freely outside.

The wound still ached fiercely, but there appeared to be no lasting damage. However, the blood still flowed. He glared at the doorway, gripping his axe tightly. It would be folly to approach the doorway when the stranger had the distance advantage. He raged inside; the child had already fled from the room and was probably behind the safety of her rescuer.

"Bastard… who the hell are you?!" he roared, still rooted to the spot.

There was no verbal response. The only noise that came from the hall was the rapid creaking and groaning of the woodworks; he concluded that the two had decided to flee from the vicinity.

* * *

"Jeez, where on Elibe did your parents go?" the man asked the girl. She gave no reply; instead, she buried her face into his shoulders as he continued running down the stairs. He sighed softly and smiled; at least she was out of immediate harm's way.

However, he himself was at a disadvantage. The girl was weighing him down; he could not fight simultaneously with a child at hand. If he and the girl were to escape from the place alive, he would have to sneak past all the other bandits who were roaming outside. Hopefully, they would be too busy pillaging the place to notice.

The afternoon sun greeted him passionately as he stepped outside of the house. With his free hand shielding his eyes, he looked about the surroundings rapidly but carefully. There appeared to be no one in sight, fortunately.

Clutching the girl as tightly as he could, he broke into another sprint, crossing the road and into an alleyway between the bakery and another house. There were another three streets to cross before he would reach the relative safety of the forest's border and the castle. The secondary concern he had after the presence of bandits along the way was the fact that the bandits had probably already made it to the castle, which would impede all hopes of escape. Furthermore, whatever remained of the archer garrison at the castle would be at a loss of what to do without his presence; all the veterans had been assembled to relocate to Castle Araphen under the command of Marquess Ostia.

"Oh no…" he had taken one step too far into the daylight once more; he found a bandit staring directly at him from his right.

Both stared at each other stupidly for a moment brief the bandit's face twisted into a revolting smile. He let out a bloodcurdling yell, probably to announce his victim or let others know of his area before proceeding in their direction.

_Bad, bad, bad!_ The archer thought to himself, backing away hurriedly. The girl, who had buried her face into his shoulder, tugged fearfully, drawing his attention momentarily, as he was still backpedalling.

She pointed in the opposite direction; he turned to see several other bandits emerge from houses, all looking confused before they saw him. Like their comrade, their faces also twisted into repulsive expressions that could barely be called grins.

He was surrounded on both sides. The only way back out was through the alley from where he had emerged. He would have to find an alternate route to the castle, but his spirits sank as he retreated into the alleyway and found that it was blocked by the same brute that he had injured earlier.

The brute looked green in the face as he staggered about like a dying cow; the archer smiled grimly. It was a slightly comforting fact to know that his poison-tipped arrows were beginning to have an impact upon the brigand. All he'd have to do is set the girl down momentarily and shoot him once again to finish him off.

Except the girl wouldn't let go. She clung on to him tightly, squealing in fear, frustrating him to no end as he heard the footsteps behind him echo off the walls of the alley. He was completely trapped, and there appeared to be no escape for him or the girl.

"Thought… you'd get away, didn't ya… bastard," the poisoned bandit laughed, although much of the swagger had been sapped away by the venom. He swayed back and forth, leaning upon the wall for support, breathing heavily. "Well… looks like this is the end for you… hah…"

The archer gritted his teeth. His hand loosened, allowing the bow to escape into gravity's clutches as it made contact with the floor. It clattered several times, creating a hollow, lifeless noise that danced about the alleyway. In the bow's place came a dagger, which was evidently in much better condition than any of the brutes' weapons, but it looked to be that quantity was going to edge over quality.

"Sorry, lass," the archer whispered softly to the girl as he looked in both directions, readying the dagger in his free hand. If he were to fall here, he'd have to take as many out as possible, although escape wasn't entirely out of the question; the poisoned bandit had apparently let the toxin run on for quite some time.

* * *

But it wasn't poison which fell the bandit. The archer stared in surprise as the bandit, who was still attempting to steady himself, staggered forward like his partner before him before falling face first into the dirt. There was a pool of blood forming from his neck, which had a shaft protruding awkwardly from it…

"Get away from my dad!" a yell came from the entrance of the alley, and the archer instantly recognized the voice. It came from a lad with light brownish-green hair and eyes not unlike his own.

"Wolt?" the archer asked uncertainly, unsure if his eyes were tricking him. "What are you doing here?"

"We were supposed to come back today, Mister Wil," another voice called out; this time, the voice belonged to a young boy who looked to be around the same age as his son, "didn't my father let you know of that?"

Wil's surprise would have lasted longer, were it not for the fact that the bandits were not keen on letting the pleasant reunion continue running its course. They let out a frightening yell in unison before charging toward the surprised archer, weapons raised.

Only to collide into what seemed to be a wall. The bandit at the head of the pack seemed to suffer the most damage, as he collided first, only to have his companions crush him with their combined weight. They all fell backward, narrowly avoiding impaling one another with their weapons as they stared at what had caused them to fall backward.

A giant of an armored suit loomed above them, drowning them in the shadows, separating them from their intended victims. They had crashed into the shield, which was wide enough to reach from one wall of the alleyway to the other, creating an effective barrier against them. They could not see the face underneath the helm, but the helm itself was a terrifying sight to behold; the black spaces upon the helm for vision and breathing told them that there was no mercy to be dispensed, only cruel, cold justice, as a spear emerged from one of the tiny gaps of the shield's wall…

The hunters had become the hunted as the spear plunged through the foremost bandit, giving him little chance to recover from his temporary paralysis. He gurgled slightly, his mouth frothing bright red with his own blood before his head lurched forward, expelling his soul.

The death of their comrade sent the other bandits into frenzy as they climbed over one another, flailing, kicking and screaming to escape, but another three figures upon horseback had appeared at the end of the alleyway, with swords drawn. They had not expected this. The fear was dancing about in their eyes; they had been told that the village was vulnerable to attack, that the Pheraen forces would be situated in Araphen… that the Marquess would be bedridden. They had not expected a small trained force to be lingering about…

* * *

**Castle Pherae**

"Are all the villagers safely within the castle?" Eliwood asked sternly to a fair-looking armored woman.

"Almost all the villagers have been accounted for, milord," she replied courteously, looking at him straight in the eye. "However, there are several who have gone missing; I fear that it would be safe to presume them dead…"

"It's still too early, Isadora," Eliwood stated curtly, interrupting the knight's words. "Lead them into from the main halls into the underground chambers. The main halls will most likely turn into a battlefield as well…"

"Yes, milord," Isadora bowed, before walking away in a brisk stride, closing the doors before her. Eliwood watched her leave before he sank into his chair, sighing. There were too many bandits. Too few trained soldiers. Many of those who remained were conscripts, barely able to tell apart the front and back of a helm, barely able to lift a sword without tripping over themselves and risk accidental impaling.

And yet, they had no choice. All those who were able to fight, including the head chef, Lowen, and women such as Rebecca, were ordered to take up arms and defend the castle. He tightened his fist angrily before slamming it into the armrest of his chair. This was not the first time he had felt such despair. He had felt powerless often before, unable to protect to the ones he loved and care for…

However, he was able to fight in his own way. He had learned over the years that battles were not won through the wielding of arms alone. His forces were undermanned, this much was true, but he was willing enough to sacrifice certain things to attain victory. He had to place faith in his archers and knights and in his own plans.

A loud knock sounded upon the doors. Eliwood stared at it momentarily before grunting slightly.

The door creaked open slowly yet confidently, but the figure at the door was not Isadora, Rebecca or his other captains. It was a robed figure, with a warm face, although it had aged, much like him.

Eliwood's eyes opened wide in disbelief as he beheld the figure before him. He struggled to his feet, his cane shaking violently as it threatened to give way underneath him.

"Y-you… it can't be, could it?"

The man smiled pleasantly, nodding. "It's been a while, Marquess Pherae."

* * *

**A/N: I'm taking these creative liberties way too freely. Oh well, as long as it deviates from the gameplay, which would be awkward to explain.**

**This would be Chapter 1 in the game. As such, writing an entire game chapter out would take too long, so I'm breaking them into pieces. It does help with pacing and cliffhangers, which we all hate and love.**

**So... characters. Yep, you guys may hate me for it, but I followed the WilxRebecca ending from FE 7. Felt that a RebeccaxLowen ending would be too one sided, but that's just my opinion. Other mentions: Isadora and one other vital character. Other than those two, I wonder who else I'm going to introduce for this small arc. **

**In terms of geography, it was a pain having to search for a map of Lycia, especially since it was so segmented like how Greece and its city-states were. But I found it eventually so all's good.**

**Also, in regards to chapter one, I changed some of the names around. Galle is now Gale. I figured that familiarity was better for this, since a lot of the details I'll be including are off the top of my head anyways. The story's name has also been reverted back to Sword of Seals instead of Binding Blade.  
**

**Also, in terms of pairings, I'll be looking at support conversations and deciding the couples. Also, FE 6 has such a huge cast that I can't focus upon everyone. As such, I'll be taking those who have the most fleshed out in terms of their history and going with them. However, that won't mean I'm going to be neglecting the others. Everyone will be getting their time to shine, especially since the story will have about 2-3 times as many chapters as the game.**

**Again, thanks for taking your time to read and review. Criticize please.**

**Special thanks to Wawert's Lazy Brother for convincing me to do some things a few ways.  
**


	3. The Battle of Castle Pherae

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the plotline. And the story is spoiler heavy. Read at your own discretion.**

* * *

**Village**

"Roy, behind you!"

The words had barely gotten to the young man's head as he whirled around almost instantaneously to face whatever had snuck up behind him. It was one of the bandits, although this one was a giant of a man, immediately overwhelming the young lord with his vast shadow.

Had Roy not been blessed with the reflexes of a natural swordsman, or with pure luck, he would have stood there, with an axe in his head as his blood painted the earth a fearsome crimson.

Yet, that was not the case, as Roy felt his feet move on their own. His body followed lightly as he rushed forward directly underneath the hairy mass of muscles of the bandit's forearm. It seemed strange; he was rushing in instead of spacing himself, which any other sane fighter would have done.

And once more, his body took the lead; his thought process was remarkably slow compared to his almost subconscious reflexes. As though he were a conductor, he swept his arm in an upward fashion.

The conductor's signal had forced the sword to sing sharply, flashing in the afternoon sun before ripping through the exposed cluster of flesh.

Red liquid splattered in front of him, temporarily clouding his vision, but the blade had followed through with its arc, concluding its deadly song as it returned to his side in one sinuous motion.

The pained grunt and the clatter of the axe upon the floor instantly alerted him that the beast was ready to counterattack. An injured beast was always the most dangerous one. Tightening the grip on the sword handle, Roy sprang away to the open space on his left, only milliseconds before a knee intruded forcefully into the space his chest had occupied.

"Quick little rat, aren't ya?" the brute growled, holding onto his bleeding arm. The blood had smeared itself into an abstract stain over his clothes as he bent down to retrieve his weapon. "Yer friend won't save ya next time!"

Roy faced his opponent, unfazed by the threat. He had done well for his first real encounter with the enemy, but his body was abnormally tense. He didn't know whether to call it excitement, nervousness or a mixture of both. All he knew was that there was a troublesome figure in front of him, and he regretted not aiming for the vulnerable midsection the first time around.

Yet, he shifted his feet, so that one was diagonally behind the other, knees bent slightly in a defensive stance. The sword twitched slightly, a reflection of its owner, but otherwise remained at chest level. It was eager to sample the taste of foul blood once more.

_Let the enemy make the first mistake…_ somehow, despite all the adrenaline raging through his body, inhibiting any form of coherent thought, Roy managed to recall the basics of his training. It was a simple tactic, but according to his teacher, it worked if one was not taken by surprise.

After surveying for a brief moment, the brigand sprang with a guttural yell. The sound waves irritated his ears, but Roy was ready. He was not going to lower his defenses and back down, if that was the purpose of the shout. This would the opportune moment. From the looks of it, the bandit was powerful, but slow and clumsy, relying too much upon his physical strength alone. He only had to sidestep and his opponent would be completely vulnerable.

Once again, his feet moved on the own. The sharp piece of steel lowered slightly for an instant before it followed him. They were one and the same in this moment.

But the brigand never attacked. He reached Roy's original position before he spun about with a twirl, his axe falling from his grasp. His face was even more distorted; his eyes glazed and a slender, but expanding stream of blood leaking from his mouth as he toppled over with a mighty crash.

"What the…" Bewildered, Roy looked over the bandit once more. A thin, wooden shaft was protruding out of the tree trunk of a neck in a crooked manner; the muscle had probably altered the trajectory of the impact.

"Don't slack off too much, Roy!" a cheerful yell to his left reveal the identity of the intervener. Roy's countenance morphed into a glowering stare as he saw Wolt run into within several yards of him. "You'll fall behind now that Dad's in a safe place!"

With little, yet lithe movement, the teenage archer summoned another arrow from his quiver into his hand and nocked it. The arrow burst from the bow with a defiant twang as it sped through the air with no apparent target in sight

_What the hell is he firing at…?_

Roy could only stare in complete wonder as a lone bandit burst from behind one of the buildings, only to run into the arrow's path. The arrow landed with a sharp squelch into the midsection of the bandit, causing him to trip and fall face first into the ground.

"They make way too much noise," Wolt mused, drawing another arrow. He watched the bandit writhe in pain, forcing the embedded projectile deeper into his side. "In comparison to the deer Mom and Dad taught me how to hunt."

Another twang echoed and in a flash, the bandit gave a shudder and faded into the welcoming arms of death as his blood flowed, almost as a welcoming tribute.

Roy scowled. His heart was still pounding rapidly from his first encounter, but his friend's interference had completely ruined the moment. As if that weren't enough; he had accurately predicted the timing of the bandit's movement pattern and felled him as though he were just some sort of game…

He had been completely outdone. Outdone by someone who wasn't an official soldier. It was true that Wolt's father was the commander of the Pheraen archer division and his mother hunted for the castle often, but this was at the point of being completely arrogant.

"The next one is mine," Roy snapped irritably, receiving a wry smile from his friend in return. "Don't interfere!"

"I'll see what I can do," Wolt laughed, but Roy had already drawn his sword and begun running down the street. He watched, amused at his friend's cape before he started looking around for more signs of potential prey.

* * *

Roy felt his cape flutter behind him, weighing him down. He wanted to cast away the burdensome thing, but it was a symbol of his royalty. He shuddered at the thought of what his father would say if he cast it away. Or rather, it wasn't his father who he worried about; it was Merlinus. The doddering old merchant managed to find everything to complain about…

There appeared to be no signs of life as Roy continued to sprint down the street. It had appeared that the main group of bandits had been exterminated in the alleyway by Bors and the other knights.

"Dammit... at this rate, there'll be nothing left for me," Roy muttered when he heard the distant scream of a bandit, followed by the panicked neighing of a horse. That had to be most likely Marcus or one of the other cavaliers.

After what seemed like a prolonged and boring run, Roy eventually stopped, unable to breathe cleanly anymore. He bent over, his chest expanding and deflating continuously as the unwelcome taste singed his taste buds. There really was nothing left for him to take…

"Master Roy!" a slightly deep, yet soft voice reached out to the fledging noble. Despite his fatigue, Roy looked up, without changing his breathing pattern in an attempt to identify the newcomer.

"Lance? What's the matter?"

Before Roy was a mounted knight, who held a spear angled downward parallel to his steed. He looked partially flushed, but his facial expression did not falter or even expose the slightest amount of fatigue.

"Master Roy, bandits have appeared at the castle gates and begun to attack!"

"What?" Roy bit his lip and stared at the tip of his blade, which teasingly hovered above the dusty ground. _So that's why there were only a few bandits here…_

"It's been about two hours since the fighting has begun, Master Roy. We should make haste; I fear that Lord Eliwood's illness will let him hold out for much longer." The knight pulled on the reins with some authority, forcing his steed to turn around, which it did, although in an irritated manner.

"Understood," Roy understood the signal clearly. He broke into a slight stride and sheathed his sword before he climbed onto the horse with relative ease. "Alert the others and make haste to the castle."

* * *

**Castle Pherae Throne Room**

"Lord Eliwood!" A distant shout echoed through the halls outside the room, causing both men to look toward the door. The echo caused by the initial noise faded away into the background to give way to the sound of clapping feet and the clumsy vocals of armor clashing.

Presently enough, a figure burst into the room, coming to a stop before Eliwood. The Marquess stood slowly with the cane underneath him for support; concern was etched over the wrinkles of his cheeks and forehead.

The newcomer appeared to be a young man, perhaps slightly older than Roy, but still too young to don a soldier's attire properly, evidenced by the fact that the helmet had flopped over his head as he bowed nervously.

"What is it, Lyle?" Eliwood asked. The soldier readjusted his helmet but his face remained the same portrait of edginess as when he stumbled into the room.

"My Lord, the bandits have overrun the main and western gates!" he spilled out at once, his voice inundated with fright. "Commander Harken can't hold for much longer in the eastern corridors; we're too undermanned!"

Eliwood frowned. He had not expected the gates to have fallen so easily. The situation was looking grimmer than he had anticipated; perhaps their numbers were greater than he had imagined. Or perhaps it was because word had leaked that Pherae's military for the most part had departed to Araphen, leaving only men who had long since passed their prime and boys who had yet to make the transition into adulthood to take up arms.

_Two hours and Roy still isn't back… what's taking him? _The Marquess felt a twinge of guilt play with his body at the thought of having to rely upon his son to help defend the castle, but the circumstance was out of his hands. It was all he could muster to stand with his back erect and hold his cane properly without straining his body to its limits.

"Well then, my old friend," the man spoke up, revealing a glint in his eyes. "What will you do? I could take over if you'd like."

"No, there's no need yet," Eliwood replied sternly, gripping his cane stiffly. His knuckles were a pearly white; both other men could see the bones peeking out at them from underneath the thin layer of skin, "we've all seen what you can do, but this is my castle. We will hold out until Roy comes."

"That's quite the unexpected answer, if I may say so myself, Lord Eliwood," the man replied smugly, although he looked quite pleased with the Marquess' answer. "Although it would seem that your resolution hasn't diminished after all these years."

Eliwood ignored the verbal stab and looked back the soldier, who immediately tensed up and stood straight.

"Have all men hold out as long as they can," he declared, as his left hand waved slightly downward. "Lure them into the great hall and have the archers pick them off from there from the balconies." His eyes narrowed sharply, "And do _not _let them anywhere near the oubliettes!"

"Yessir!" The soldier saluted hastily and turned to run. The two men watched in slight amusement as he left the room, his helmet flopping over his head once more.

"Are you sure this plan will work?" the man wondered aloud. He paced back and forth, his cloak fluttering slowly behind him. "There is the chance that something could go horribly wrong…"

Eliwood watched the man walk back and forth across the room for a brief moment before he opened his mouth.

"Now, this is surprising. If my memory serves me well, then it was you who led us all with those surprising tactics almost twenty years ago."

Almost abruptly, the pacing had stopped and the room had fallen silent. Eliwood felt a twinge of regret as the man looked up at him, with a face marked with regret and guilt.

"Led us all… huh," he murmured softly. He looked down at the exquisite pattern upon the carpeted floor. "If I were really capable, I could have been able to save them…"

"It's not your fault," Eliwood remarked slowly. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It had been twenty years, perhaps slightly longer. But the images flashed within his mind like it had been just mere moments ago. The broken cries of pain before they fell silent. The tattered pieces of grief that they would no longer be able to live in a reformed world. The empty smiles in which they realized that they would have to entrust their dreams to their comrades. He saw it all.

"It's not your fault," he repeated. "I'm sure they would say the same thing as well."

* * *

**Castle Pherae Eastern Corridors**

"Fall back! Fall back to the great hall!"

The yell was loud enough, but its urgency and power appeared to be amplified by the intricate layout of the architecture as the noise filled the ears of defender and invader alike.

The order had been issued from a lean, blond man. He peered at the battle scene before him; all he could see was a sea of blood and bronze before he was forced to raise his shield up to defend himself.

"Captain!" the panicked scream of a soldier nearby echoed in his ears, but he was still in fighting condition. The blow of the axe had been deflected but his opponent was using his superior physical condition to drive him into a corner.

His back hit the wall and he could hear the bloodlust in the bandit's attempts to notch the kill. It was repulsive, completely inhuman. His defense was still holding, but there was no space to swing his sword around. It wouldn't be long before his endurance would give out…

He kicked. He had not planned upon doing so, but there was no other way to escape from the predicament he had landed himself into. He felt his foot connect with a mass of soft tissue before the pressure had eased considerably; he was now free to move.

The sword flashed from its resting position, rushing upward diagonally toward the exposed torso of the bandit. The metal rushed through the body; skins and organs alike, carving a path before itself without slowing down until it had exited into air again.

But it wasn't the end. He had remained in place for a brief second, in a victory-like stance before he whirled around and swung the other arm. The shield, eager to prove that it was not only a defensive tool, smashed its blunt edge into the neck of a nearby enemy, sending his head into temporary flight, as the rest of the body did a midair somersault, spraying blood over the vicinity.

"Captain Harken! Fall back! We'll take it from here!"

Shouts from above had forced the blonde man to momentarily look up at the newcomers. It appeared to be Rebecca and her husband's archer division. They had taken points in the balcony, away from present danger.

"Please do!" Harken yelled back, grinning. He turned and hacked wildly once more, felling another opponent who had decided to sneak behind him.

There was nothing he could do for the injured and all the other men had already withdrawn into the safety of the great hall. It was only him and an entire horde of agitated bandits. He began to run as fast as his legs would take him, while the pained yells of his injured subordinates plagued his mind. There was nothing he could do for them except let the archers do their job.

"Captain… it's good to see that you've made it safely."

"Thanks, Lowen," Harken replied, breathing roughly. Using his sword as a makeshift cane, he leaned over and sighed. "I'm getting too old for this kind of business… how on earth does Marcus still keep up?"

Lowen grinned. "Don't worry Captain. When this is all over, I'll have the chefs fix you a feast."

"Appreciate it," Harken smiled back. He looked at the doorway; there were dozens of shafts flying downward diagonally and scores of bandits falling in agony within the room he had just emerged from. "The fighting's not over yet though…"

"Captain Harken!"

It was Rebecca again. She had run through the overhead passageway into their room and looked distressed.

"Captain, the bandits found cover from our arrows; get your men onto the upper levels!" She pointed in the direction of the two staircases on opposite ends of the room.

The men required no additional orders; almost immediately, they began running in the direction of the stairs in an unprofessional manner. Harken watched on in disbelief at the amount of training he'd have to impose upon them afterward if they managed to escape the situation alive.

"They're here…!"

About a dozen or so bandits had made their entrance into the room, bloody and worn, but with the air of depraved beasts. Harken whirled about, with his makeshift cane back into its proper role. He was able to make out the outline of many others following behind with a sinking feeling in his chest.

It seemed that although the archers had done their job, the number of enemies present was still high. They couldn't afford to lose any more ground; past the hall were the oubliettes, where the villagers had taken refuge. They'd have to make their stand here. Any further than that and the battle would be compromised…

* * *

**Castle Pherae Outer Grounds**

"What happened here…?"

There was no need for an answer. The ground had been painted with debris and corpses and the foul stench of a raid lingered in the air as the group treaded slowly into what had once been the castle's grounds.

"Crap… they must've made it into the castle interior," Wil frowned. He was still holding onto the girl, who at this pointed had latched onto him like a parasite and refused to let go.

"Is… is Mom okay?" For the first time today, the archer appeared nervous; his slender frame began quaking in waves.

"Relax son," Wil put a hand upon his shoulder to comfort the boy, "didn't I tell you that your mother's probably the better archer out of us?" He paused for a moment, looking sour as he spoke the words. "…as much as I hate to admit it."

"What about Lady Lilina?!" a knight with a rather rotund face asked anxiously. "Is she safe?"

"Bors, you should relax too," Marcus chided. The knight looked up at the paladin at a loss for words, "as long as Lord Eliwood is keeping watch over her, she'll be perfectly fine."

"Let's go," Roy announced. The others turned in his direction; he brandished his sword in a declarative fashion; his face matched evenly although to the onlookers, it was difficult to tell whether he was excited or serious, "We can't waste any time chatting like this!"

* * *

**Castle Pherae Great Hall**

Harken felt it in his arms. He had successfully completed the slash, severing his foe's arm from its socket in a clean slice, but a sharp sensation ricocheted from his wrist to his shoulder, leaving behind a heavy, leaden feeling. Such were the aftereffects of aging.

"Ugh…" the aged soldier clutched at his sword arm, leaving him vulnerable from all sides. It was all his adversary, who was still able to act, required.

Despite being short one arm, the bandit had balled his remaining hand into a fist and drew it back, before sending it flying straight into Harken's jaw. It collided head-on.

He felt a sharp crunch and for a fleeting instant, the world around him had distorted and faded to black. He staggered about blindly, shuffling his feet from the force of the blow. But the sounds were still present; around him, the sounds of weapons clashing, battle and death cries seemed to melt together into a haunting and ugly symphony.

The terrible sensation lasted for what felt like an eternity, but he presently found himself back in the room, although his vision was still terribly unfocused. There was no time to react as he opened his eyes; the bandit was relentless, having picked his weapon up once more. Any other person would have succumbed to the loss of blood in that span of time. But the lust for battle had barred the door of Death shut. There was nothing he could do but stand there dumbly and await for Death to open the door for him.

"Captain, get a hold of yourself!" A shout echoed in Harken's ears, but the man remained there, rooted to the stone floor. He stood there, even as he barely made out the outline of another blade intervening. The metal had caught the bandit at the midsection, tearing the lock of Death's door apart, yet he could not process it. It seemed that Death would take the bandit's life after all, as the two halves the body hit the floor one after another with a thud that was drowned out by the ballad of battle.

"L-Lowen," Pain still ran its course through Harken's head, but he was still alive.

"Are you alright?" Lowen asked worriedly, lowering his shield to brace against an incoming enemy before he countered with a fierce smash to the face, stunning the brigand.

Around them, the howling of arrows descended to the earth as they raced toward their marks. But for every man who was taken down, the ferocity of the invaders seemed to increase, and presently enough, the defenders found themselves fighting a desperate struggle. They began tripping over each other, their swords and the bodies of their deceased in a frantic attempt to distance themselves from the jaws of Death.

"Don't worry about me. We have to defend this hall at all costs…" The captain spoke with grim resilience. He rushed forward to intercept a nearby adversary but stopped short as the bandit's axe had found its target first; the axe had slashed diagonally through the neck of the man and into his chest.

Perhaps it was the sight of the death. Or it was the thought of the villagers left at the mercy of the bandits if they failed. Maybe it was the image of his failure in the service of Lord Elbert. Whatever it was, Harken found himself filled with a renewed rage. The throbbing pain which had held his bones and muscles in a vice-like grip seemed to melt away into nothingness. Defense meant nothing now as he threw his shield away and grabbed a nearby axe off the floor. There was no need to show mercy to these savages.

"It's hopeless!" Lowen wailed, retreating several steps to the base of the staircase. He looked over several feet to his right; the Captain was still fighting, although the will to live had been usurped by the suicidal aura of a martyr.

"Don't give up! It's far too early!"

The head chef bit his lip, grunting heavily as the edge of an axe licked lustfully at his cheek, drawing blood. Almost immediately, the blade rushed up in response, as if to parry the axe's attempt to lay claim to its owner.

It was true that it was too early to give up, but the situation was dismal at best. It was a miracle that the men had not been completely overwhelmed; the archers were still safe, perched above the fighting. But they could not attain a clean shot for fear that they would hit one of their own. And so they hesitated between each shot, allowing the battle to run its chaotic course…

* * *

"Wolt!"

Once again, Rebecca's voice had drifted over the treacherous storm of battle and reached the ears of the participants. The woman was staring at the entrance of the door, where several new people stood.

And for a moment, the battle seemed to drift into a momentary lull as both sides gazed at the newcomers.

They let loose a brutal cry simultaneously as they launched themselves at their opponent. Even at the moment, the bandits could do nothing but stare in astonishment as several of their comrades were hewn down before their eyes.

The defenders, emboldened by the aggression of the newcomers, had claimed the offensive. They began attacking the stunned bandits with afresh zeal; swords, spears, arrows and even shields began to revel in the bloodbath.

And the invaders had nowhere to run. They were surrounded on both exits and from above. In desperation, they began to use each other as a safeguard in a futile escape to the exits, only to meet their demise at the hands of their prey.

"Lord Roy!"

Roy swiveled about; his sword was still inside the abdomen of his adversary, leeching the life from him. He looked about the confusion of the battle, which had dissipated into nothing more than a complete massacre before finding the figure of Marcus looming in front of him.

"Lord Roy, leave the battle to us," Marcus instructed, pushing the limp body off Roy. He turned and thrust powerfully, impaling another brute, "and go check upon the Marquess."

"Why?"

The question itself was innocent enough, but Marcus scowled. "Lord Roy, it is your duty as the Marquess' son! Now go!"

There was no arguing with the ancient knight. Roy looked on in frustration before sheathing his sword. As much as he wanted to argue, Marcus was right. He was to fulfill his duty.

* * *

**Castle Pherae Throne Room**

"Lord Eliwood!" Another soldier had appeared at the door, panting heavily. "Milord, Master Roy has arrived at the castle and is now assisting in driving the bandits back!"

"Excellent," Eliwood smiled, but not before coughing again in the process.

Just then, a shrill scream echoed throughout the hall. The three men looked at one another in surprise. The soldier, who had the most advantageous vantage point, stared off into the direction of the scream before an axe flew in and delivered a fatal kiss to his face.

Eliwood could only stare in horror as the man reeled backward before collapsing onto the floor, his face horribly maimed. He watched as the blood began to pool about the body, before a hideous figure appeared at the doorway leisurely.

He was tremendous. There were scars all over his body and his beard was in tatters. But amongst it all, his eyes carried a bloodlust and greed that seemed to bore into the room with unwavering malice. He carried a large, serrated dagger in his right hand, which he used to point at the figure in his left…

Eliwood's stomach lurched at the sight of the figure caught in the bandit's clutch. He paled almost instantly, negating any thoughts of wielding his blade.

"Lillina…!"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Guess it looks like I'll have to segment this "arc" even further.**

**Now admittedly, battle scenes are the most challenging thing I've had to do while writing fics. And it's the older style of fighting that gives me a pain. Mecha fights, beam spamming... all easy stuff. Sword fights, not really. I had to read up on my sources, like this pretty good guide on how to write battles somewhere on this site, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter (for upcoming mage fights) and the like.**

**Anyways, the usage of FE7 characters will be less often as the story progresses. I can't let them steal the stage from the FE6 character cast, especially since FE6's cast is tremendous. **

**A few quirks about the FE7 characters:**

**1. In this chapter regarding what Wil tells Wolt about Rebecca: This was because in FE7, I liked using Wil but after two playthroughs and one GameFAQs walkthrough, people seem to say Rebecca is a lot better, and I was convinced after raising her in the arena.**

**2. Lowen's hobby is cooking. I didn't catch onto that because I never really used his character in the game (Sain/Kent were better IMO), so naturally I didn't see his support convos until I did my research.**

**3. One of the characters who could recruit Harken is Lowen so naturally I had the two engage in conversation during battle. Same thing with Marcus, so I had Harken mention Marcus.  
**

**Other quirks:**

**The bandit in the previous chapter by the name of Bazba is a reference to one of the earlier bosses in Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones, in Colm and Neimi's recruitment chapter.**

**Regarding Characters:**

**-Every character in FE 6 will have a specific role. Some more than others, based on who I used and who I liked, but they will all play a part nonetheless. Nearly all FE7 characters will be referenced at one point or another.  
**

**-In terms of pairings, there will be more than one. Now, this is ambiguous because in FE6, support pair endings with the exception of Roy and Lillina did not exist. Supports were merely meant to boost battle percentages. Once again, they will be based off who I think is a good pair, so no hate please.**

**-Yes, I wish Roy and Wolt started off with this much hax in the game. Wolt does develop the role somewhat, but Roy... oh my goodness, what subpar stats. We'll call it beginner's luck, cause that's all he ever seemed to want to gain every time he leveled. But I believe starting off like this will be crucial to their development.  
**


End file.
